


Jazz Hands

by piper_mccool



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piper_mccool/pseuds/piper_mccool
Summary: Ladizel Band!AU. Hazel’s been stuck in limbo, working at the same New York café since graduating high school. Her dream is to become a great musician, but she’s stuck longingly watching the artists who come perform twice a week. A talented singer named Sadie catches her eye one night at work, and Hazel is sure her attraction isn’t one-sided. Then she meets Lacy, who’s struggling career-wise after her partner Drew bailed out of their musical duo, and the two girls decide to room together to help their financial situations. As Hazel and Lacy grow closer, they have the brilliant idea to form a band, and after enlisting Sadie, it seems like this might be the point all their careers have been leading to. In such close proximity, the three girls’ friendship turns into something more, and lots of music, pining, flirting and kissing ensues.
Relationships: Sadie Kane/Lacy/Hazel Levesque
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for the pjo femslash minibang
> 
> thank u rey @zoenightshadez for making edits and just talking thru this in general!! <3

Hazel balanced a tray of dirty dishes against her hip as she made her way towards the back of the New York café. She disposed of the tray’s contents in a big bin next to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter, wiping her tired hands against her apron.

Frank flashed her a sympathetic look from his spot at the host’s station. Fridays and Saturdays were some of their busiest days. The café hosted live music on those days, and people always came flooding in from God-knew-where to listen. Quite honestly, some of the musicians were rather awful. Hazel wasn’t one for judging others, but every fibbed chord on a borrowed guitar made her cringe just a little.

But the girl on stage wasn’t half bad. She wasn’t bad, period. She had clearly been singing a long time, and her voice was rich and confident. Her fingers strummed the guitar expertly, hitting every chord dead-on. She was performing some kind of convoluted love song, emphasizing every time she sang the word ‘baby’. Hazel approved.

Hazel’s gaze swept to her green poster on the front window. She didn’t have to look at it to know what it read – she’d spent so long trying to get the wording just right. LOOKING FOR ROOMMATE. 18+. Description of the apartment. Long list of requirements. MUST BE ABLE TO PAY RENT. The last part was underlined.

Hazel’s manager flashed her an annoyed look from the kitchens, and Hazel hopped back into action, snapping out of her thoughts. She grabbed her pen from behind her ear and approached a couple settling down in her section.

“Hello, how may I help you,” she asked, taking out her notepad. She had to speak louder than usual to be heard over the music. Hazel tried to keep a smile on her face as she made her obligatory spiel on the day’s special, but it was futile – her late-night practices and lack of sleep were starting to catch up with her, and she was finding it harder and harder to act cheery to the customers.

The woman, who sported wide bangs and many-ringed fingers, ordered a black coffee. Her partner, a man dressed in slacks and a collared shirt, wanted a latte (extra cream). Hazel was about to turn away when the man said, “Man, this place has a nice atmosphere going for it.”

Hazel forced another smile. “You betcha.”

“Good entertainment.” The woman rolled her eyes like ‘not again’ but smiled softly, and Hazel felt like she was missing out on some sort of joke. She spread her smile even wider and nodded.

The man chuckled. He pointed revealingly to the front of the restaurant. “The singer’s my sister.”

Hazel’s eyes followed his outstretched finger to the girl on stage. The colored lights were blinding, and she couldn’t really make out her features, but Hazel didn’t think she looked… similar to the man in front of her. But it wasn’t implausible – Hazel herself didn’t look much like her brother, either. The singer had her eyes closed and seemed too comfortable in front of the blinding lights. Hazel was jealous of her demeanor – how could someone look so at home on stage?

“Well, she’s really talented,” Hazel confessed. She fiddled with her notepad, worried about keeping other tables waiting, wondering when she would be let off the hook.

The man grinned proudly. “She really is.” He didn’t say anything else, and Hazel took it as her cue to leave.

As she placed the order at the kitchen, Hazel found her eyes wandering back to the stage. The musician had left the guitar hanging from her shoulder, and was leaning into the microphone, holding it close. Hazel thought the whole restaurant seemed full of her deep voice.

Hazel’s manager behind the counter snapped his fingers in her face, and Hazel jumped and recoiled. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he ignored her, working away at the cappuccino machine.

Hazel couldn’t wait to save up enough to be able to quit this job.

She continued her shift, humming softly along to the songs she recognized. It wasn’t exactly her genre, but she liked it – it was fun. Very rock. Very… loud.

The singer’s brother stayed the entirety of Sadie’s set. (Hazel had overheard her name when her brother ordered his third coffee of the night – Hazel didn’t think so much caffeine was particularly healthy, but more drinks meant a better tip, so she kept them coming.)

As Hazel’s shift approached its end, she found herself glancing at her watch, counting down the minutes. The crowds were clearing out, and Hazel went from table to table, picking up dirty mugs and wiping down every surface.

Sadie announced her last song: “And for the grand finale, how about we get some Prince up in here?” Sadie had an accent – was it British? It was unexpectedly cute.

Hazel kept looking towards the stage between helping her last customers and delivering drinks. Sadie bobbed her head along with her music, her hair bouncing up and down transfixingly, looking overjoyed just at sharing her music with an audience. In that moment, Hazel wished desperately to be in her shoes.

Sadie sang her final notes, then gave a sarcastic “Good night New York!” Her brother and his girlfriend, the only two left in the café, whooped and hollered. Sadie laughed breathily into the microphone and gave a final riff of her guitar. As she made her way off stage, Hazel felt heat rise in her face.

Not again.

Hazel seemed to get crushes on every female musician who entered the café doors. She really couldn’t help it – they were all so _talented_. And beautiful…

Sadie was no exception. Now that she was out from under the tinted lights, Hazel could see her hair was dyed with red streaks. Her stage makeup was smeared from the performance, and it was admittedly hot. As Hazel watched her pack up, their eyes met for a split second. Hazel turned away hastily, ashamed to have been staring. Or, more precisely, ashamed to have been _caught_.

Hazel spotted Frank straightening the menus, and hurried towards him, glad for some distraction. She quickly grabbed an armful of menus from the haphazard pile at his station and started stacking them.

Frank looked from her to something behind her back, and made an involuntarily smug expression.

Hazel hit him with a menu. Frank’s face broke into a grin. Hazel glared at him – sometimes, a look meant so much more than words. Frank was about to make a comment when he suddenly stopped and looked at something behind Hazel. Hazel gaze followed his, and she found herself face to face with Sadie, standing with her hands on her hips.

Sadie smiled conspiringly and leaned forward on the counter. “So,” she asked, “You work here often?”

It was a ridiculous question. Hazel’s gaze swept over the other girl, taking her in. She wore used black jeans and a leather jacket, and had piercings lined up along her left ear. Hazel found herself lingering on Sadie’s neck and snapped back to attention.

“Yeah, I’m here most – most week days. Also Saturdays, in the mornings...”

Sadie smirked. She read Hazel’s nametag attentively, focusing on each individual letter. “Maybe I’ll see you around, then, Hazel. I have a couple other gigs booked over the months to come...”

Sadie looked over her shoulder and saw her brother shrugging on his jacket. “Sadie, we’re heading out now!” Sadie flashed Hazel a last smile and said, “I’m Sadie. See you around,” before turning on her heel. She picked up her guitar on her way past a table. Her brother wrapped his arm around her shoulders on their way out the door, and Hazel found herself staring after them. The little bell above the doorframe was still ringing when Frank cleared his throat.

Hazel thought he would tease her, but instead he said, “So, are we still up for frozen yogurt Sunday?”

Hazel tried and failed to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, definitely.” She finished piling her menus and put them on the shelf next to Frank’s. He waited for her, then took the lead as they headed to the break room to retrieve their stuff.

Hazel took off her apron and hung it on one of the hooks lined on the wall. She opened her locker and took out her backpack, checking for her phone, keys and wallet – she always did now, after Leo, their kitchen aid, had played a not-very-funny trick on her last month.

Hazel wondered what she usually wondered after meeting a cute girl. _Where do we go from here?_ Hazel was good at the getting crushes part and not much of anything else. Most times, she would just let it drop, but Sadie had seemed… interested. And gay. Sadie had seemed interested and gay, and that was the farthest Hazel had gotten with any of the restaurant’s musicians as of late.

The night was cold when Hazel stepped out of the building for the first time since her lunch break. She took in a lungful of air and gave Frank a wave as they parted ways. He headed for his car – the lucky guy – and Hazel crossed the street to the bus stop. She took out her phone and earbuds and searched up a rock playlist. Hazel tapped her foot against the sidewalk and fiddled with a coil of hair until the bus pulled up in front of her.

The fluorescent lights hurt Hazel’s eyes as she made her way up the aisle. She found a seat near the middle and leaned against the window. As the music played in her earphones, she pictured Sadie still on stage, singing them. Was that normal?

Maybe when she got home, Hazel would try something different with her music. She’d practice her piano technique first, then pick up her bass… She could probably stay up late again – tomorrow was just a half work day.

When she opened the door to her apartment, Hazel’s head was full of music. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, then settled onto her piano bench.


	2. Chapter 2

Lacy was having the _worst_ day. First, she was out of waffles. Then, her entire life and career were in shambles, and she would probably never stop crying.

Drew had called that morning to announce she was bailing out of their performance. In fact, she was bailing out of their entire arrangement. She’d gotten some sort of record deal – which she’d auditioned for behind Lacy’s back – and was now moving on to better, more important things than their duo. Even worse, Lacy’s landlord had called for the third time that week – they were serious about evacuating her for not being able to pay rent.

And Lacy didn’t even have waffles as reconciliation.

Now she was stuck trying to turn a duet into a solo performance in nothing but a couple hours. Lacy sprawled on the floor of her room, surrounded by song books and fiddling with her guitar. She tested out Drew’s lyrics under her breath, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. Her gaze kept waning back to her closed door, behind which she knew Drew’s stuff was gone, leaving empty spaces all throughout the apartment. No record player in the living room. No stupid-loud blender in the kitchen.

Lacy still felt shaky hours after the news. Her brain was like mush. There was no way she could get this together, but she knew she had to try. This was her only source of income, and music was her passion, and opportunities like these were going to get her discovered.

She took in a deep breath. _Inhale, exhale._ Lacy gathered her equipment and headed out the door. When she arrived to the café for her gig, she set up alone for the first time in years. Lacy realized she’d only have to plug in one guitar and almost burst into tears right then and there. A concerned waitress came up to her and asked, “Can I help?”

Lacy nodded helplessly. She was much too emotionally strained to function, and she kept plugging the chords into the wrong amps. The waitress crouched down and connected everything together expertly. She smiled reassuringly as she stood back up and stretched.

She had nice arms. Strong arms. Lacy wondered if she worked out. Then she remembered she had much bigger things to focus on than the waitress’s arms. Lacy grabbed her guitar off the wall against which she’d left it and took off its case. She strapped the instrument over her neck and shoulder. The feel of the instrument was reassuring, but Lacy still felt as helpless as ever.

The waitress, whose nametag read **HAZEL** , seemed impressed with the guitar. She whispered an envious “Nice”. Lacy looked down at the body of her guitar, where she’d painted a dove with spread-out wings. She’d spent weeks coming up with the perfect logo – and now it wouldn’t amount to anything.

Lacy thanked Hazel for her help before going up to the microphone. She had to make it shorter for it to reach her lips, and a static groan filled the restaurant.

Lacy winced, along with most of the café. She could already feel herself going teary. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled. Lacy repositioned her guitar against herself. She introduced herself: “Hello, my name’s Lacy.” God, did it hurt having to introduce herself that way. “I’m really excited to be here today.” Yeah, right.

The lie must’ve been see-through, because no one bothered lifting their heads, save an elderly couple in the corner. Lacy smiled towards them. Hazel was behind them, talking to a customer. Lacy turned away, trying to focus on her music.

The first couple songs weren’t too hard. It was an odd experience, singing them by herself. Lacy wasn’t sure she’d ever practiced any of them on her own, at least properly – she’d sang quite a few in front of the mirror, using her toothbrush as a mic, but never with performing in mind. Lacy felt vulnerable on stage – there was no other voice to harmonize with, no bass to cover up her fibs.

Lacy’s higher-pitched voice didn’t lend itself nicely to a chunk of the songs, but at least she knew the lyrics. The words were practically mapped in her mind – Lacy could picture them scribbled all over her notebooks, hastily scrawled on the side of her arm.

At some point Lacy closed her eyes. And in another part she opened them again. The lights on her face were blinding, but she could make out Hazel standing by the far wall, watching her. The waitress twiddled with her pen, an attentive look on her face.

And then it was done. Lacy thanked the audience and started putting away her things. She was glad she hadn’t cried, though she’d come close – that was really all she could ask for at this point.

Lacy rushed off stage and was halfway out the door when she stopped dead in her tracks. _Where did she think she was going?_ There was no one to see, nothing waiting for her at home. There was no rush to do anything – it was frankly depressing.

Lacy backtracked to the table where she’d seen Hazel earlier. She set down her guitar case and sat in one of the two chairs. Repositioned her chair. Drummed her fingers on the edge of the table. Lacy wasn’t sure what to do with herself – it wasn’t often she found herself out alone.

Hazel came over, merry. She seemed excited to have Lacy sit in her section. “Hi! Are you ordering?” She positioned her pen against a pad of paper.

 _God_ , Lacy was dumb. She was in a _café_ , and severely under equipped in the way of money. She thought of the crumpled ten-dollar bill in her pocket and nodded slowly at Hazel. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll have a… mocha? Please?”

“Coming right up!” Hazel quickly scribbled down her order. She leaned in and said, “By the way, you were really good up there. Very emotional.” Before Lacy could answer, Hazel left. Lacy’s gaze followed her swinging hips until Hazel disappeared from her line of sight.

Lacy’s attention shifted to the money in her pants’ pocket. She tried to calculate the mocha into her budget but couldn’t figure it out – math had never been her strong suit. There was a reason she wasn’t pursuing an engineering degree. Lacy never should have ordered anything. She should’ve just gone home and reheated some leftovers, retreated to bed and called it a night.

Lacy’s eyes were teary when Hazel came back a couple minutes later with her drink. Lacy mouthed a ‘Thank you’, but couldn’t bring herself to speak aloud.

Hazel leaned her palms on the table, concerned. “Hey,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Lacy shook her head softly. She stared down at the napkin Hazel had placed on the table, trying to will her tears back.

“Hey, _hey_.” Hazel’s voice was gentle. She reached out her hand and placed it reassuringly on Lacy’s. “You were great on stage – your voice is… amazing.”

Lacy smiled sadly. She shook her head.

“Really. You’re great.”

“Thank you. But that’s not… That’s not…” The words wouldn’t come.

“I understand if you don’t want to tell a complete stranger your life story, but I’m willing to hear you out—”

Lacy shook her head again. “No, it’s not that… It’s just… embarrassing.”

Hazel raised a skeptic eyebrow. “Listen, I’ve been a waitress in this same café since high school. There’s no getting embarrassed around me.”

Lacy laughed a bit, in a kind of sad way. She ran her hand across her face, then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear anxiously. “Yeah, well, I’ve never had a proper job. I’ve just been performing with this other girl, and, um, she cancelled on me. Indefinitely, actually. I’m having enough trouble paying rent as is, and now I’m gonna have to figure out gigs and bills and _everything_ out on my own…”

Hazel leaned in closer, suddenly optimistic. Lacy felt her breath escape her lips. “Well then, I have a solution. You can come live with me.”

She said it so casually, it took Lacy a minute to register her words. She leaned back. “You’re serious—?”

“Listen, I’ve been looking for a roommate – to be honest, I’ll do anything to be rid of this job sooner than later.” Hazel dragged her elbows across the table. “I’m soooo sick of it.”

Lacy furrowed her brows. “You’d room with a stranger?”

“You’re not really a _stranger_ anymore– we just met. It’d be a big help financially for me too.”

Lacy squinched her eyebrows together, considering the offer. She evaluated the girl in front of her – Hazel didn’t _seem_ dangerous. She wore worn-down capris, and her hair was tied up in an innocuous bun. Very inconspicuous – maybe _too_ inconspicuous. Also very cute. Hazel was watching her anticipatingly, her brown eyes gleaming.

“Don’t you think I should see your apartment before committing? It’s kind of a big deal…”

The truth of her statement seemed to dawn on Hazel. “Of course. Are you free this afternoon? My shift ends soon, we could go directly there…”

Lacy nodded. “Sure. Can’t hurt to check it out.”

Someone cleared their throat, and both girls turned towards a man working behind the counter between the dining rooms and the kitchen. Hazel leaped back from the table. “Sorry!” She turned back to Lacy while adjusting her apron. “I have to get back to work – you mind sticking around for twenty minutes until the end of my shift?”

“Not at all.” Lacy had nowhere else to go for the day, after all. Hazel left, and Lacy eyed her mocha before picking it up in both hands and taking a sip – if she had paid for it, she was sure as hell going to get her money’s worth.

The drink had gone cold, but it didn’t taste half bad. Lacy made a conscious effort to relax her features. She went over the day’s events in her mind and hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.

***

As soon as her shift ended, Hazel went back to Lacy’s table and settled back into the chair opposite her. She was no longer wearing her apron. Lacy looked up from her hands, which were wringing out her paper napkin. She smiled shyly.

Hazel clapped her hands once. “Thank you so much for waiting, I’m really sorry. Let’s go?”

Lacy nodded. She was feeling better. More energized. She pushed out her chair and got to her feet, grabbing her guitar. Hazel mimicked her. She asked, “So, do you have a car or are we going to have to pay for a taxi?”

“No, I have a car. It’s a shitty one, but it runs.”

Hazel seemed happy at the prospect of a car. She had a bounce in her step as she made her way out the café door into the sunny afternoon light. But when they reached the parking lot and Hazel finally laid her eyes on the car, she burst into incredulous laughter.

“That thing doesn’t look like it could make it another mile.”

The car looked like it had once been a cheery, vintage number, but it was now more rust than turquoise paint.

Lacy scoffed, jokingly offended, and unlocked the car’s dented trunk. She swung her guitar off her shoulder and placed it gently in back. “Shirley does her job just fine, thank you very much. Let’s go.”

***

As soon as they entered the apartment, Lacy’s eyes gravitated to the piano in the living room. Everything in the small space seemed placed to showcase it, the green couch placed right across, and wooden stools angled to face it. When Hazel flipped the wall switch, light fell right on the piano keys, as though it had been placed just there in order to showcase it.

The walls were painted rough white. Through a doorway, Lacy could see a sort of kitchenette, with beige countertops and cupboards. It was a nice place – a bit outdated, but by no means cause for complaint.

Lacy went up to the piano. She ran her hand lightly over the keys, which played softly under her touch.

“I didn’t realize you were into music.”

Hazel grinned. “Yeah! I’m really into jazz. And a whole bunch of other stuff, but jazz is my favorite.” She was swooning a bit, and Lacy felt her cheeks go warm because – because it was cute, okay?

Lacy thought about asking her to play a song, but Hazel turned away to lead her through a hallway. “The second bedroom’s right here. It doesn’t actually have a bed in it, and it’s definitely a bit small, and dusty. I haven’t cleaned in here for a while…”

Lacy looked around. The room was about the same size as her other bedroom, and painted the same empty white as the apartment’s entryway. A blank canvas. Something clicked into place in Lacy’s chest, and everything suddenly seemed a lot more real than it had a minute ago.

Lacy said, “I feel like this is the type of decision I’m supposed to take the time to think through, but, to be honest, I’ve already made up my mind. I’m in a pretty desperate situation.”

Hazel nodded understandingly. She smiled kindly. “So… roomies?”

Lacy laughed. “Wow, yeah. Roomies.” They shook on it. There should’ve been hesitation, but there wasn’t. Lacy felt sick at the idea of spending any more time at her old apartment. Maybe she was being hasty, hurdling into something new to get away from her problems, but regardless, Lacy had a new home.


	3. Chapter 3

Lacy moved into the new apartment in a rush. She lugged brown cardboard boxes back and forth from her residence of the last year and a half to her car, from her car to Hazel’s apartment – _their_ _apartment_ , she corrected herself – for an entire afternoon. She’d packed all her things fast (but methodically), relieved for the opportunity to move on. Lacy hadn’t even gone a week all alone, and already she couldn’t stand it. She was about _people_ , being with them and helping others in every way possible. She loved _togetherness_ , and the idea of another night in, spent killing time until she could finally crawl into bed, with no one to tell good night to... it felt like an ominous _thing_ lurking in the back of her mind.

Hazel stuck around, carrying things in and out the door. She wore leggings and a loose top, dressed much more casually than at work. She tried unpacking Lacy’s things, only to have her new roommate rearrange it all the way she liked it, so Hazel stuck to keeping the other girl company. She sat cross-legged on the newly-made bed, fluffing up a pink pillow and watching Lacy arrange notebooks on the room’s one shelf.

“You have a lot of those, don’t you? Are you taking some kind of course?”

A blush spread across Lacy’s freckled face and she shook her head, making her twin braids sway. “They’re just, you know, thoughts. Songs.” She twirled her braid around her finger self-consciously.

Hazel’s eyes light up in recognition. “So that’s where the magic happens,” she marvelled.

Lacy looked up, astonished. “You liked my songs?”

“Of course I did. Everyone in that place loved them.”

“I think you’re exaggerating. Half the people there probably didn’t even notice me.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m probably exaggerating. But  _ I  _ really loved your songs.”

Lacy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Drew didn’t want to perform any of them. She didn’t think they were good enough.” Lacy let go of her braid. “Most of it  _ is _ pretty sappy, but I feel like that’s, like, the best kind of music.”

“Definitely. It’s the type of stuff that leaves an impression.” Hazel was nodding, and Lacy’s heart thumped with joy. She grabbed the last notebook off the (her) shelf and plopped down next to Hazel on the bed.

“There’s this one song I was writing last week. I can show you if you... I mean, if you care.”

Hazel nodded enthusiastically, and Lacy gave another one of her shy smiles. She cleared her throat, fingering the pages in her lap.

“So it starts with – I mean, it goes –”

Hazel nodded encouragingly. Lacy fidgeted her legs and started humming under her breath, only to stop, feeling silly. Hazel

Hazel lifted herself off the bed, crossed the room and went out the door. She came back a second later with her guitar, and sat back down next to a confused Lacy.

Hazel put the strap around her shoulder. She grabbed the guitar pick tucked behind the strings. “I’ll play back-up.” She looked Lacy in the eye, and the girl leaned forward and placed Hazel’s hand on the correct chord.

Hazel strummed once, making a pleasant sound ring out. “Show me.”

They stayed there in Lacy’s half-settled room, tossing lyrics back and forth, testing out different chords, laughing. Hazel was lying on her stomach on the bed now, and Lacy had moved to the middle of her floor, to a space cleared of boxes. She strummed Hazel’s guitar dramatically, liking the feel of the strings beneath her fingers. She smiled as she sang with her eyes closed, swaying side to side, and Hazel cupped her mouth with her hands and whooped as she sang the song’s new last verse.

Lacy hopped up onto her toes, jumpy. Hazel lifted her torso off the covers and grinned. She leaned her weight onto her elbows, and wow – she really had incredible arms. The girls were giddy and passionate and tired, and thank God neither of them had work the next day, because there was no way they were going to get to sleep any time soon.

Hazel swung her legs back and forth above the sheets, and took the time to really  _ look _ at her new roommate. Lacy dropped her gaze but kept smiling, her cheeks full and pink.

Hazel nodded. And kept nodding. Her smile somehow got even bigger.

This was going to be  _ good _ .

***

Lacy was still awake. Hazel had retreated to her room hours ago, smiling and sweaty from their jumping around, and was no doubt now fast asleep. It was past midnight, and Lacy was exhausted from a long day of moving and worrying  _ what if what if what if _ , but she couldn’t seem to grasp a thread of sleep.

The bed was her own, but it felt different in this new space. The air was warmer than she was used to. Stuffier. It was wrong and new and exciting and terrifying. Lacy rolled onto her side.

She’d changed into pajama shorts and an old County Fair T-shirt before bed, and the clothes on her back and the row of notebooks on the room’s only shelf felt like the only familiar things in the world. Lacy curled up against herself, her mind wandering. She was still herself, she reasoned, only in a different place. But maybe she wasn’t enough. The wholeness of the night left Lacy feeling fundamentally lacking. Deep down, she knew what she was missing wasn’t her old apartment. She missed Drew. If she’d stayed at their place, she wouldn’t have been any happier. The cramped rooms were now just empty shells. Drew had left her behind in search of something better and taken with her any twisted semblance of home, and Lacy was now stuck in a lonely in-between place.

Lacy buried her face in her pillow, trying to bury her thoughts along with it. She hummed familiar music beneath her breath, an upbeat tune turned somber, and fell into a complicated sleep with lyrics still floating in her head.


End file.
